Heart Of Stone Trilogy: The Prophesy
by AllzStar
Summary: Violet Pevensie. Stubborn like her mother with the looks of a stranger. In this epic conclusion to the Heart of Stone Trilogy, she discovers that before she was born a lie fufilled a Prophesy. Now she must find her missing family...and her real father.
1. Prologue

**Heart of Stone #3: THE PROPHESY**

_AllzStar_

PROLOGUE

He had been waiting for her since sundown. It was now well past midnight; the moon had grown bright and was poking beams through the trees and into his starry eyes. The inky black sky, dotted with pinpricks of silver, stretched above him, cloudless and limitless.

A noise from the north startled him out of his peaceful demeanour. The soft sound of distant hoof beets could be heard—it had to be the only sound for miles.

He leapt to his feet, knowing that it was probably her on her way, but being cautious nonetheless.

As the hoof beats drew nearer, he pulled his sword from the scabbard, its magnificent jewelled hilt and perfectly polished blade sparkling in the moonlight.

Indeed, it was her, and he absently dropped the sword and ran to greet her as she slid gracefully off her pony and into his waiting arms.

"You are alone?" she asked quietly.

"_We _are," he replied, leaning in to kiss her.

She stopped him by pressing her fingertips to his lips. "Are you sure?"

"Dead sure," he replied, smiling against her fingers. "Are _you _sure this is a good idea?"

"I want you," she admitted, pouting her lower lip.

He chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest. Then he became serious. "David?"

"Won't understand," she answered, waving the thought away. "What difference would it make to him anyway?"

"And the other man?" he asked, using the mandatory code language for their meeting.

"He won't know."

"Are you certain?"

The girl bit her full lower lip, her eyes leaving his as she thought through her plans. Strands of her pale hair were plastered to her forehead and cheeks, sticking out from under her drawn hood.

"Yes," she said at last. "He won't know."

"Even if…"

"Even if this meeting has its consequences. He won't know."

He lifted her in the air and spun around with her. Then he set her down and kissed her passionately.

"I want you," she whimpered again.

He was already sliding her cloak over her shoulders.


	2. Of goodbyes and hellos

**Heart Of Stone #3: THE PROPHESY**

_AllzStar_

CHAPTER ONE

The child was barely three years old; but already he was running around and yapping about things as if he'd lived a hundred years. His nanny, Lucille, whose dark hair was coming out of its knot and streaked with grey from all the stress, was up to her neck in his pranks and tricks.

She was presently chasing the boy around the nursery. He had escaped her clutches already and was dancing around like a shadow: every time Lucille caught him he would slither out of her arms like sand through her fingers and disappear again.

"Devil's child," Lucille spat as she gathered her skirts and charged after the boy, who was tottering dangerously close to a glass vase. She grabbed the child, perhaps with more force than truly necessary, and pulled him up so that he straddled her hip.

His cherubic face, that which had sported a wide smile moments ago, suddenly twisted with agony and he began to wail, fat tears streaming from his bright blue eyes.

"Shh, shh, there's a doll," Lucille murmured quite impatiently. "You'll disturb half the castle with those screams."

He screamed all the harder, flailing his arms, squirming to get away. But Lucille held fast this time, and when the boy realized there was no escape, he began to claw at her bare arms with his stubby nails. She winced, but did not give in.

Suddenly the doors swung open and a tall and grand lady stepped in. Instantly the child stopped his screaming and scratching and flailing. He looked up at the lady with his blue. Orb-like eyes, as if he was the most innocent little thing in the world.

"Your Majesty!" Lucille gasped, dropping to a lopsided curtsy so as not to drop the child.

The Queen was tall indeed; in fact, her husband, at six foot two, was barely two inches taller. Her dress was royal blue and shapeless, tumbling from her shoulders like a sack to disguise her torso, which was swelled and protruding with pregnancy. Her hair, once bright gold, was now pale and wispy. She had strong shoulders and an even stronger jaw, and her eyes, black and beady, seemed to see through everything. She was not a pretty woman, though she once had had been. The power of being in command of a world had gone to her head, and, thus, her face.

In that moment, Lucille searched her mistress' face for any sign of that blushing little girl the Queen had been—when she'd asked Lucille to be her bridesmaid, and treated everyone equally. The only time Lucille ever saw a trace of that kind soul was when the Queen looked at her son.

The Lady was doing so now, and held out her arms to Lucille, who immediately passed the child over to his mother.

The Queen cradled the child in her arms, staring down at him lovingly, the hardness momentarily leaving her eyes. "Does he ever look like his father," she cooed, staring into the child's crystal blue eyes. Then, coldly, to Lucille, "Wait outside. I need to talk to my son alone."

Lucille curtsied again and streaked from the room, grateful for the chance to treat her scratched arms.

Lady Jaxx held her son, named after her father, in front of her, staring into the blue eyes that were exactly like her husband's. "David Aurelius," she began firmly, "tomorrow you will be going away. Lucille will be taking you to a safe home that is very far from here. You won't see me for a long time. Do you understand me, child?"

David looked up at her, his eyes full of the knowledge of a full grown man. "Why, mama?" he asked sadly.

"I can't tell you that," she sighed. "But I need you to promise me that you won't give Lucille any trouble. You are to be good for as long as you are with Lucille. Don't run off without telling her where you are going, listen to her words, and do exactly as you are told. Do you understand me?"

David nodded once, slowly. "Yes, mama."

Queen Jaxx called Lucille in and passed David over to her, grunting as this disturbed her ballooning belly.

"Oops," David chimed. He leaned over in Lucille's arms to kiss his mother's belly. "Sorry, baby."

The Queen rubbed her son's head affectionally before turning to Lucille. "You know where to go?" she asked firmly.

Lucille nodded. "When milady?"

"Tomorrow. Before the sun rises."

"When will it be safe to bring him back here?"

Jaxx paused, staring at her son, who, of course, understood exactly what the two ladies were speaking about. "It will never be safe for him here," Jaxx sighed finally. "Not until this baby is old enough to understand." She rubbed her pregnant belly absently. "Return with him only when someone from Cair Paravel comes looking for him."

"How shall I know if it truly is someone from Cair Paravel, milady?" Lucille asked tentatively. "If it is not a traitor or an assassin?"

"You will know," Jaxx said quietly, "because it will be my child. You will know my child when you see her."

"Her, milady?" Lucille asked. "You know the sex?"

"I have a feeling…," Jaxx said, once again touching her belly. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears; she impatiently blinked them back. "Keep him safe, Lucille," Jaxx begged her old friend.

Lucille was taken aback by the sudden return of the Jaxx she knew and loved. She reached out and took Jaxx's hand; David took the other. "Or die trying, milady," Lucille whispered.

"I hope not," Jaxx said sadly. She embraced her friend and her son; kissed David's forehead. "Good-bye, my darling," she whispered. "I love you." A tear slid free.

"Mama?" David called.

Jaxx turned away.

"Mama!"

She headed for the door; her face contorting in pain as she left the one she loved the most in the world behind her. Tears began falling freely down her cheeks.

"MAMA!"

The heartbreaking cry followed Jaxx out the door, but she did not look back, even as she shut the door behind her.

She was gone.

David burst into tears; it took hours before Lucille could finally sing him to sleep. When he was finally in Dreamland, his little eyes screwed up in pain as he dreamed of his mother abandoning him, Lucille gathered him up into her arms and cried.

*

It had happened right outside the High King's study—in fact, she had been about to throw open the doors and rush to the comfort that was her husband's arms around her—and the King himself stood up so fast he knocked over his desk, sending ink and paper and quills every which way. He sprinted for the doors, threw them open, and gasped at the scene before him.

Lady Jaxx, his wife, his love, his Queen, lay on the floor, sprawled on her side, dazed, her chest heaving, both hands caressing her swollen belly.

High King Peter dropped to his knees with a heartbreaking grown and carefully, gently, pulled his wife into his lap. "Jaxx?" he whispered, panicking on the inside.

"David," she gasped, gazing up at her husband's matching eyes. "Lucille is taking him…tomorrow…"

"Shh," Peter urged. "Never mind about that. What happened to you, my love?"

"I c-couldn't take it," she bawled. "Too much. I…I had to sit down. But there was no chair. My knees…they couldn't hold me up anymore." She cried silently into her husband's chest, her whole frame shaking violently.

There were several pairs of running footsteps heading their way, and when Peter looked up he saw Maria, Jaxx's lady-in-waiting, rushing towards him with towels in hand, flanked by three more maids. Peter's own brother, King Edmund, followed behind them, and when he saw Jaxx his dark, almond-shaped eyes grew wide with shock and horror.

"What's happened?" he demanded. "Is she alright?" His voice shook as he got to his knees as well, taking Jaxx's hands in his own.

The maids busied themselves with cleaning up the mess: Jaxx had taken a vase full of flowers down with her when she fell, and Peter swore he heard Maria mutter "Water broke" to her companions.

"She fell," Peter explained, his own voice quavering.

"And the baby?" Edmund demanded, looking fearfully at his brother's wife, who was his best friend.

"I don't know," Peter whispered.

The mess cleaned up, Peter gathered Jaxx, who was nearly unconscious, into his arms and carried her all the way up to the King and Queen's master bedroom, Edmund and Maria at his heels.

As soon as Peter had set his wife down on the bed Maria and the other ladies ordered the Kings out. Overruled by the cries of the four women, Peter and Edmund exited, too worried to be bothered that servants were giving them orders.

Their sister, Queen Lucy, and Edmund's fiancée, Estella, bumped into them on their way out, for the ladies were on their way in. Two more maids followed the Princesses inside. And the door was, once again, shut in the men's faces.

Peter and Edmund waited in the lounge across from the bedroom. Lucy's fiancé, Jack, lay on the floor with his hands linked behind his head, staring at the ceiling and sighing frequently.

After about half an hour, Peter and Edmund's other sister, Susan, the Queen of Telmar, breezed into the bedchamber without saying hello to her brothers. Her husband, King Caspian the Tenth, joined the men in the lounge, sitting in an armchair across from the King brothers.

"We came as soon as we heard," Caspian said quietly to Peter. "What happened?"

"We're not exactly sure," Peter explained in a whisper. "I think she was overwhelmed with grief and fell." He leaned towards his brother-in-law. "She's just said good-bye to David."

Peter saw Edmund fidget uncharacteristically out of the corner of his eye at the mention of David, but he ignored his brother. Nerves were running high in this room, anyway.

"What of the baby?" Caspian asked gently.

Peter shook his head. "We're not sure. The ladies won't let us in."

Almost as soon as the words had left his mouth there was a piercing, agonizing cry from the bedchamber. Peter leapt to his feet, but Edmund coaxed him back onto the sofa.

"She needs me," Peter begged. "She's in pain!"

"She's gone through it without you before," Edmund reminded him. "Be patient. She'll be fine. She's Jaxx." Edmund smiled. "She's always fine."

"She didn't fall right before David was born," Peter muttered.

Edmund squeezed his brother's arm and nothing else was said.

The cried continued. With each one Peter's fists clenched even tighter until his nails were digging into his palms and drawing blood.

Finally, the cries of Jaxx subsided, and instead the beautiful, wailing sound of a newborn baby's first cry was heard.

All four men gasped in surprise, and then they all gave shouts of congratulations and shook hands.

The door to the bedchamber opened, and Maria stood there, holding it open. Inside, all was dark. "Your Majesty," she said to Peter. She was strangely shifty-eyed, and kept shooting suspecting glances at both Kings. "You have a daughter."


	3. Of disappearing Kings and Queens

**Heart Of Stone #3: THE PROPHESY**

_AllzStar_

CHAPTER TWO

The youngest stable hand of Cair Paravel was awakened at an absurd hour by the most high-pitched of whinnies. He groaned and heaved himself out of his hammock to go tend to the distressed horse. He stumbled across the lawn to the barn and slid the bolt out to unlock the heavy wooden door. Grunting, he pushed the door aside and peered in. Several curious heads appeared over the half doors, but all the horses seemed relatively calm.

Confused, the boy shut the door and bolted it again. He turned around, prepared to go right back to the farm house and sleep till well after dawn, but he found himself face to face with Tybalt, High King Peter's trusted steed. The light bay gelding's flanks were heaving and large patches of sweat covered his neck. Foam gurgled at his mouth and slid down his chin and onto the dewy grass.

The boy suppressed a squeal of surprise, for he did not want to frighten to poor animal further. He slowly reached out a hand and stroked the beast's nose. The horse's muscles tightened instantly at his touch, but he did not resist.

"Tybalt, dear one," murmured the youth, stroking the horse's damp neck. "What's happened? Tell me."

"Master. Gone. Disappeared. Don't—know—where." Tybalt shook his head, nickering, as if to clear a frightening image from his head. "Kings. Queens. Went through hidden door. Didn't. Return. Big noise. Frightened."

The boy's eyes widened and he wrapped his arms around Tybalt's quaking head. "Whoa, whoa, boy. Are you speaking of High King Peter, King Edmund, and Queen Lucy?" Tybalt nodded. The boy's heart sank. "And what of Queen Susan of Telmar?" The horse nodded again. "You mean to say that they're…gone?"

Tybalt nodded again, and his eyes rolled back. He reared up, whinnying in a new panic.

"Whoa!" shouted the boy, raising his hands to calm the beast.

But Tybalt had had enough. He turned on his hocks and bolted to the far side of the lawn, hopping the fence with ease and galloping off into the pasture. The boy panted in fear, his dirt-streaked face a picture of horror. The Kings and Queen of Narnia, and the Queen of Telmar, were gone. This was sure to mean disaster.

The boy, whose name was Bronstein, stumbled across the lawn and up the slope to the door to Cair Paravel's dungeon. He unlocked it with the key at his hip and scrambled through, leaving it half open behind him in his haste. A shadow passed across the entrance and slid into the room, disappearing in the darkness. Bronstein hadn't seen it.

He ran through the many passages of the castle until he got to the foyer. He then stopped running and bent over to catch his breath. The he bolted up the grand staircase and turned down the passage to the throne room, where he knew Oreius would be slumbering.

"Oreius!" he cried, entering the hall with a bang.

The enormous centaur rose, swift as a tiger, drew his sword, and lurched forward with a battle cry, the tip of the blade pointed directly at Bronstein's heart. The boy cried out in fear and fell back, putting his hands over his face. Oreius realized it was the young stable hand and exhaled sharply. "Tobias Bronstein. You must not disturb me so. It might be the last thing you ever do."

"It…almost…was," Bronstein gasped, placing a hand to his chest to remind himself of life.

"Well, what is it?" Oreius demanded, irritated, as he sheathed his sword reluctantly.

Bronstein got to his feet. "Tybalt—King Peter's—steed—came running in—told me—Kings—Queens—gone. Went through a—door—didn't come—back." Bronstein put his hands on his knees.

Lady Jaxx's General could not believe his horse ears. "You mean to say that the Kings and Queens of Old have disappeared?"

"Yes!" the boy cried.

Oreius reared up. "Soldiers of Cair Paravel. Awaken!" he roared. His voice exploded through the entire castle and the walls shook. Bronstein fell to the floor in a dead faint.

Instantly, all the soldiers that lived to defend Cair Paravel were in the throne room, bleary-eyed and groggy, some still in their nightwear. Oreius paced in front of them, giving out orders in his booming voice. Bronstein was carried to a bed chamber to rest. He was not needed.

"Now, Narnians—find our Rulers!" Oreius bellowed, raising his sword. The guards cheered drowsily and stormed out of the hall, grunting and grumbling. They scattered across the lands, searching frantically for the missing persons. Oreius took up the rear, his heart heavy. If the Kings and Queens were indeed gone, there was no telling what Narnia was in store for.

* * *

**Hello peoples!**

**Well, that's chapter two! It was short, but...**

**If any of you have read my other Narnia story, "Son of Adam, Daughter of Eve" (I DELETED IT), this is indeed part of the first chapter that I have edited and used for this story instead. The first book in the Heart of Stone Trilogy will be called "Son of Adam, Daughter of Eve".**

**Please review; they make me happy!**

**AllzStar**


	4. Of questions that go unanswered

**Heart Of Stone #3: THE PROPHESY**

_AllzStar_

CHAPTER THREE

It was one of those days when you just couldn't stay inside. I woke up, got dressed, had breakfast and then streaked for the outdoors, dancing in the tall grass and laughing at the ticklish sensation between my toes when I stood on the sandy beach. The water was turquoise and clear; the white sand spotless at the bottom. I tied my skirts around my hips and ran through the waves, splashing myself and everything around me. After all the fun I was exhausted; I lay down in the sand, staring at the clear blue sky, and tried to make sense of this beautiful world I lived in.

I had always been an insightful child, full of aspirations with a remarkably adventurous spirit…

"VIOLET!"

…and that was why I was supervised every second of every day.

Maria came running towards me, skirts hiked up so as not to get the hems sandy, her copper hair tucked under her worn scullery cap. Her skin, which had once been a pretty olive tone, had paled after all those years of being cooped up in the castle. But I had seen to it that she got more sunlight and some rose in her cheeks.

"Violet Carmen Pevensie, if I have to call your name _one more time…_"

Oh, dear, but she was cross.

I got up from my sandy haven and rushed across the vast beach towards the enormous cave where Maria spent our afternoon trips down to the beach. She was standing at the entrance, still coyly in the shade, her hands fisted on her ample hips.

"You went out of sight again, you silly goose!" she scolded, taking me by the ear and steering me to one of the lawn chairs we'd brought along. She sat me down and began irritably fussing over my appearance, tsk-tsk-ing at the sand in my hair and the water stains over my skirt hems.

"No, I didn't," I protested stubbornly. "I merely lay down. You probably couldn't see me over the dunes." I shied away from her touch as she tried to braid my hair. "Will you stop that! I did not disobey you, and I don't like having my hair tied up!"

"Awe," Maria whined mockingly. "Poor little pigwidgeon. What do you think your dear uncle will think when he sees you all sandy?"

I smiled. "He shall think I have been on an adventure, and will ask all about it." Maria gave an unnecessarily hard yank on my apron, and I protested with a cry. "But I shall have nothing to tell me if you don't let me have an adventure, Maria!"

"A girl like you doesn't need to have adventures," Maria said firmly.

"'A girl like me'? What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, scrambling away from Maria's fussy hands and folding my arms.

Maria rolled her eyes. "A Princess, and I special one at that. You're also far too young to be worrying about such poppycock as _adventures_…such things only happen in…in fairytales!"

"Uncle Caspian has had many adventures," I pointed out smugly. "And he's a _King_!"

"He wasn't always," Maria grumbled.

"A prince, then. You know! He was Prince Caspian! He fought for his place as rightful King of Telmar, fought his own uncle! He's told me all the stories!" I stuck my tongue out at Maria to prove I had won.

Not quite. "King Caspian is a man, Violet. There's a difference between men and women."

"He wasn't a man when he fought his uncle for the kingdom!" I reminded her shrewdly.

Maria shook her head. "No, child. Caspian was eighteen when all that trouble came along. A boy of the age of a man."

"Well, girls can do anything boys can," I muttered, pouting again.

"You'll understand when you're older," Maria said.

"_You'll understand when you're older,_" I mimicked. "I get that _every year_. When will I be old enough? I'm thirteen, after all."

"Thirteen years too young, my dear," Maria said with a smile. She caught me before I could run and sat me back down in the chair. "Now stop squirming and have a drink, there's a good girl."

I reluctantly took a sip of the lemonade, which was, in fact, utterly delicious, and sank back into my chair, gazing up at the rock ceiling in frustration. I never stayed angry for long, though, a trait which infuriated me. Soon I was back to pestering Maria.

"Tell me again," I begged. "Tell me about my parents?"

Maria chuckled. "I've told you everything I know about them a hundred times and then some, child."

"Oh, but I want to know more," I said longingly. "They sound so wonderful in your stories."

"They were wonderful," Maria said sadly. "Your mother was the sweetest little flower I ever knew."

"And my father?"

"She was beautiful, just like you," Maria went on, ignoring my question. "I'm afraid you don't look much like her, though."

"I look like my father, then?" I asked brightly.

Maria shook her head. "I believe so."

The conversation always ended there.

I didn't know what my father looked like. I had never seen a photo. Maria had told me that he and his brother, Edmund, and sisters, Susan and Lucy, had vanished on the night I was born, along with Lucy's fiancé, Jack. My mother remained in a coma, lying in her bedchamber. Maria said that she had taken ill with grief when my father disappeared and had lost her memory. The mages had put her to sleep so that she would not be a danger to herself and our world.

Usually, when I got this answer, I would move on, too impatient to know more about my parents to really dwell on the simple, yet unanswered, question.

Today, however, I felt different, and so I reacted differently.

"Well, what did my father look like?"

Maria shrugged. "I don't know."

"You were a bridesmaid at the wedding!" I cried. "How can you not know what the groom looked like, Maria?"

"I can't remember." Maria was especially fidgety, wringing her hands in her lap. I swear I saw sweat trickle down her neck.

"Yes you do," I pressed firmly.

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Maria…"

"Silence, child!" she cried, suddenly standing up in a rage. "I have told you, time and time again, that I cannot recall much about your father, for I knew him not. You must learn to hold your tongue over such sensitive matters!"

Too shocked and hurt to mind my manners, I shouted right back at her: "Fine, then! I'll just go ask Uncle Caspian. He'll tell me! I know he will; he always answers my questions. Do you know why? Because he actually _loves _me! It's a shame he's the only one that does!"

And with that I jumped up and sprinted from the cave towards the castle, ignoring Maria's shouts to come back and easily outrunning her.

**BAM!**

**Violet explodes!**

**Well, how was that? You guys like it? How's Violet? Like her? She's stubborn, like her mom haha.**

**Please REVIEW!! They make me HAPPYYYYYY**

**AllzStar**

**PS It will get more interesting, I promise! I know it's a little dull right now, but it should pick up next chapter.**


	5. Of mothers and fathers

CHAPTER FOUR

Inside the walls of Castle Cair Paravel, things were calmer, cooler, and considerably quieter. King Caspian the Tenth sat alone in his study, staring once again at the framed photo of him and his beloved Susan, three days after their wedding day. She looked so beautiful: her brown hair was wavy and tumbled over her shoulders, her creamy skin glowed in the light, and her pale eyes sparkled as she smiled. He, himself, looked happier than he had felt in years. Fourteen long years it had been since he'd last seen the love of his life. She had disappeared…left him…. He had spent hours just staring at this picture, and every time he did so a dreadful pain inflicted his chest.

The soft knock on the door broke him from his reverie, and he hastily wiped his wet eyes on his sleeve before calling, "Come in".

The door opened only six inches, and his very own niece, Violet Pevensie, stepped inside, leaning against the door to close it behind her. "'Afternoon, Uncle Caspian, sir."

"Hello, dear one," Caspian said tiredly. "Come in, sit down."

She did so, timidly, as always.

"What is it, child?" Caspian asked.

Violet sighed. "Well…I was talking with Maria today, and, of course, she wouldn't answer my questions."

"About?"

"Mother and Father, of course."

"Ah." Caspian settled back in his chair. "What is it you wish to know?"

"Maria says she can't remember what my father looked like."

Caspian only smiled. "Hmm."

"Maria said I don't look like my mother or my father," Violet continued. "But that doesn't make any sense."

Caspian nodded, as if to himself, and thought about things for a few moments before answering his niece. "No, dear child, it does not make sense. But I think it is best, for now, to leave this matter alone. Do not press Maria for more information: the poor woman is worn out and fading quickly. If you have questions, do not hesitate to come to me."

"Very well, Uncle." Violet paused to catch her breath, and then continued. "I want to know about my father. Who was he? What did he look like? How was he as a person? A knight? A scholar?"

Caspian nodded again. "Good questions. I'm afraid that I did not get to know your father as well as I would have liked to. He always had...uh..._reservations_ about me marrying his sister. But I can tell you, my dear—" here he stood, took Violet by the elbow, and led her to the looking glass next to one of his many bookcases, "—that you look very much like him."

Violet looked at herself. She had seen her reflection many times. She tried to picture an older, male version of herself and could not.

"I have not one of my mother's features?"

The two of them sat back down across from each other at the desk.

"I don't believe so." Caspian studied his niece for a moment, and then shook his head. "No. I knew your mother quite well, better than I knew your father. She was a kind soul. Very brave. She was quite the little warrior, I can tell you that. When she was fifteen and I a man of eighteen, she fought me for two hours straight."

"She didn't," Violet gasped.

He nodded. "She did." Caspian listed: "I think, though, that you are ultimately like your father, not only in looks but in mannerisms.

"You're stubborn, like your mother."

Violet smiled.

"And adventurous, like her. But the way you walk, talk and stand; those are more like your father. Almost...cat-like. You're outgoing…laid back, but also quite hesitant around adults, much like your father."

"So not much like Mother at all?"

Caspian shook his head. "I'm afraid not.

"No loss, though. Your father was a great man." He took Violet's chin in his hand. "But you are still your own person, Violet Pevensie. You can be whatever you wish to be."

"I want to be Knight!" Violet exclaimed at once. "Like my poor Mother." She thought of her mother, shut away in her bedchamber, stuck in a coma that would probably never lift.

Caspian looked at his niece fondly. "You are every bit as brave as she was, young one," he said thoughtfully, "and when you are older I myself will teach you how to be a knight. I will teach you everything I know, including all that your parents taught me."

Violet's eyes lit up as she bounded forward and threw her arms around her uncle's neck.

"Thank you, thank you, _thank you_, Uncle Caspian!" she squealed. "When can we start?"

"When you are older, dear," Caspian chuckled, pulling away from his niece's embrace. "Now go, child. I have work to do still. I shall see you at suppertime."

Violet hugged her uncle once more, smiled at him till her face hurt, and then sprang from her room, laughing and squeaking with excitement.


	6. Of stags and walls

CHAPTER FIVE

"She was asking about her parents again," Caspian told Maria as the two of them watched the young girl tackle a series of difficult precision techniques on the grand lawn outside the castle courtyard. They were sitting on the terrace balcony sipping refreshing beverages and relaxing for the first time in years.

"Endlessly inquiring, that girl is," Maria tsked, shaking her head. "Poor little thing. Grown up without a mother's love or a father's teaching. If you ask me, it's a miracle she gets on as well as she does."

"It's dangerous, though," said Caspian, sighing. "She keeps asking all the questions that I can't answer: the ones she needs to find for herself."

"Don't you think it's more dangerous if she doesn't know the answers?" Maria asked sceptically.

Caspian sighed yet again. "Yes." He paused to sip his drink, and then leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "But I can only tell her what I know, which isn't much. She asks the most logical questions: the who, what, when, where, why and how of her father and his siblings' disappearance, for example; the answer to which I have no idea. The reason why Lady Jaxx doesn't wake up..."

"You know the answer to that question," said Maria.

"No, I don't," Caspian replied. "I know why she is in the coma. I don't know why she can't wake."

"If she did—"

"I know what would happen _if_ she did," Caspian snapped. "But I don't see what it is that is keeping her under."

"The Mages' spells, of course," said Maria.

Caspian scowled at his hands. "Perhaps. But I am beginning to think it may be something else."

"What else could it possibly be?" Maria cried, throwing her hands up. "What is more powerful than the magic of the Mages of Narnia?"

"Her will, perhaps?" Caspian challenged, his black eyes gleaming. "Her very own will?"

"She can't remember, Caspian!" Maria urged quietly. "She doesn't know!"

"Something inside of her must know there is something missing," Caspian insisted. "She said so before. I heard her say it myself."

Maria sat back, shaking her head. She gazed out at the lawn to where Violet was practicing. But when she looked, she could no longer see the child. She rose from her chair, panic already starting to make the back of her neck prickle. "Violet?" she called, her eyes sweeping the lawn. "Violet!"

Caspian had heard the panic, and rose as well, searching for the child. "Violet! Violet!" he called.

"Blast," Maria spat. "She always does this: disappears out of my sight! One day she's going to wander off and get seriously injured..."

"Guards!" Caspian called. "Find Violet immediately!" He himself reached for his sword, which had been lying on the coffee table in front of him. He breezed through the doors to the balcony and half a minute later Maria saw him run across the lawn, following the guards into the woods. She pulled out her handkerchief and stood at the railing, clutching the fabric to her mouth and praying silently.

*

I had been so distracted by Maria and Uncle Caspian's conversation about my mother (they didn't realize that their voices carried easily over the whole courtyard and I could hear every word) that I hadn't seen the stag until I'd turned to scream at them to stop speaking of my mother as if she was dead.

It was easily the biggest stag I had seen in my life. Its head, crowned by a rack the size of a large caribou, was majestic and strong as it bent to graze on the bracken at the edge of the underbrush. Its sleek body was a warm chestnut, its legs lean and powerful; I knew it could jump a six foot fence in one bound.

Drawn by its presence, I dropped my sword and walked, slowly and steadily towards it. When I approached it lifted its magnificent head and looked right at me, its enormous black eyes wide with surprise. I stopped in my tracks, waiting for it to continue grazing so I could approach further.

To my great surprise it did not return to grazing, but opened its mouth and said in a low, clear voice: "Milady!" As I stepped back in shock, it lowered its great neck and leaned back into what appeared to be a bow. It straightened and spoke again. "I have been sent to take you to the one who can help you."

"What do you mean?" I asked hesitantly, trying to decide if this was real or if I was going insane.

"I cannot say...," the stage said apologetically. "You shall see."

"What are you?" I blurted. "I mean...why is it you can speak?"

The stage chuckled. "Well, I am a Narnian, dear Child."

"A Narnian?" I asked, confused. "I've heard of them...but never actually seen one."

"You've never seen a native of your very own Kingdom?"

I shrugged. "Well, maybe I have, but I've never...spoken to one. And my Uncle and my maid keep me locked within the palace most of the time except for rare trips to the beach."

"Well, follow me, dear one, and I shall lead you outside the palace walls. Then you shall see just how magnificent this world really is."

I hesitated for only a second, and glanced back at Caspian and Maria. They were still so engrossed in their argument; they wouldn't even notice if I slipped away. I turned back to my friend, smiled, and took off after him as he bolted into the bushes.

My skirts caught on a branch and I nearly fell, but managed to rip free, tearing a large chunk of my hem away. I reached down and ripped the rest off, so that my dress fell to my knees, an appalling length. I smiled and kept running. I pulled the band out of my hair so that the dark curls tumbled over my shoulders freely. I laughed as I felt the wind chasing me as I tore after my new friend.

The run was over far too soon. After a time I caught up to the stag, for he, too, had had to stop. Before us was a great wall, twenty feet in height. It continued to both sides for miles, it seemed.

"This, my child, is the wall that separates you from your destiny," the stage explained quietly.

"And what _is_ my destiny?" I whispered.

The stag looked down at me, his large black eyes gleaming. "That, my dear, is yours to discover." He gestured to the base of the wall, where bushes and bracken had grown wild.

I knelt by the spot he had indicated and began pulling away the weeds and twigs. One last sweep of a plant and I saw it: a hole, a foot in height and a bit more in width. I lowered my body to the forest floor and peered through. The passage went down, and then up: I could see the light on the other side.

"How long has it been here?"

"Since your mother found need of it," the stag said.

"My mother made this?" I asked, staring at him.

He nodded his great head.

I looked back through the hole, and suddenly a tremendous power tugged at my very heart, and I found myself crawling forwards.

A movement on my right stopped me. The stag had bent down so that his head was level with mine. "When you are outside," he said in a rich voice, "look to the left. There will be a small cabin with a horse tethered outside on a fence. Go inside the house and ask for Tobias Bronstein. He will tell you what to do from there."

"Thank you," I said. "Will you be here when I get back?"

He shook his head. "No, child. I have played my part in this journey. It is up to you to discover what happens next."

I thanked him again and watched him go until he disappeared around a bend in the forest. Then I turned back to the hole, got on my belly, and began to crawl.

**Hey everyone!**

**Grace: Thanks for the review! I forgot about the camera thing...well, it's Narnia, maybe it's a magic picture or something. I dunno :P Yes everything will be explained eventually. And yes, she's a little childish, because she is treated like a child.**

**PLEASE REVIEW!!! There haven't been very many and it makes me sad ******

**AllzStar**


	7. Of juniors and seniors

**Author's Note: At the beginning of the last chapter it said "Two years later"...scratch that. Violet's still 13. My mistake...sorry.**

CHAPTER SIX

When I crawled out of the tunnel, I could hardly believe my eyes. I was standing in a beautiful meadow. Flowers of every size, shape and colour were growing hither and thither. Butterflies and other pollinating insects were buzzing about. The sun shone brightly on the scene, making the grass glow a brilliant emerald green. The delightful fragrance of hundreds of flowers brought a healthy pink glow to my cheeks.

I did what the stag had told me to do, and looked to the left. Indeed, there was a little homely cabin, with a pony tethered to the fence outside. It nickered softly as I approached it, and I reached up to stroke its velvety nose. Then I turned and knocked on the door.

I waited five long beats before knocking again. But, again, there was no answer.

My heart sank. What if I had imagined the stag? What if this was just some old cottage and the pony was a stray?

I leaned against the door and slid down it until I was sitting on the wooden porch.

_So you're going to give up, just like that? Two knocks and that's all?_

I started. The voice was so real it was almost as if someone had been whispering in my ear. But it was only my inner voice nagging at my mind.

_Come on, Violet, get up and knock again! And if there's still no answer, try opening the door!_

The taunting edge to the voice made me stand up and pound on the door once more. There was still no answer.

The doorknob felt cool in my hand as I began to twist it. It turned, turned, turned...and then stopped. Locked.

I kicked the door in frustration.

"'EY!" Someone shouted. "What's tha' doin'?"

I whirled around. On the other side of the meadow stood a boy. I was a little frightened because he looked quite a bit older than me, maybe seventeen. He was tall and slim with a shock of brilliant red hair and a freckly narrow face. He was wearing simple commoner's clothing and was barefooted. Clutched in his hand was a lead rope, and at the end of it was another pony, this one much bigger than the one tied to the fence.

"Who are you?" I asked boldly.

"I was abou' to ask thee the same question," he retorted. He had a strange sort of accent in his speech and spoke so fast I could barely keep up.

"I am Violet Carmen Pevensie," I said imperiously, lifting my chin. I really hoped I looked stronger than I felt at that moment. "The Princess of Cair Paravel."

"Aye," he said softly. "That thee art." He did not seem at all impressed by my status, and crossed the meadow in four long strides. He tied his horse to the fence and then stared me down. He was a good foot and a bit taller than me. His eyes were round and blue, the bluest blue I had ever seen. They were like crystals...like ice. But warm at the same time. He seemed quite kind, I decided, and I liked him.

"I'm supposed to go inside," I told him, "but it's locked and nobody would answer the door."

"That's because there's a-nobody inside," he said with a laugh, and reached around me to fit a large key into the lock.

I looked up at him. "Are you Tobias Bernstein?" I asked him.

"Aye," he said. "That I am."

"You're supposed to tell me what to do," I said.

"I am?" He looked at me with surprise in his eyes, his red eyebrows raised halfway up his freckly forehead. Then a knowing look passed over his face and he nodded. "Oh, aye. You're the royal wench who's off to find tha' father."

"I'm to find my father?" I squeaked.

He nodded. "But it's not me tha's got to talk to. Tha' need to speak to my father: Tobias Bernstein Senior."

"Oh." I watched the older boy as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, holding it for me. I breezed past him into the small cottage.

It was small, but comfortable. It had a very sweet appeal to it. There were lots of windows and therefore was very light and open, which made it seem bigger than it actually was.

"Where is Tobias Bernstein Senior?" I asked Tobias Bernstein Junior as he busied himself with emptying the contents of his knapsack into cabinets and cupboards.

He looked round, shrugged, and went back to his job. "He's not here."

"Well, where is he? I've got to speak to him." I crossed my arms in irritation.

"I've not a clue," the boy said. "Does tha' expect me to know where ma' father is every hour of every day?"

"But you knew I was coming," I said angrily. "He should have been here waiting for me."

"Ah, no-o," the Tobias Bernstein Junior said, drawing out the 'no' sound it sounded like two syllables. "We knew tha'rt were comin', but we didn't know when."

I sighed and sat down at the tiny table in the center of the room. "When will he get here?" I asked quietly.

The boy shrugged again.

"Well, what am I supposed to do until he gets here, Tobias Bernstein Junior?"

He laughed. "Oh, aye. Call me Toby, lass. It's much less of a mouthful." He reached over and placed a plate of warm garlic toast and some beans. "Tha' can eat while you wait."

"I'm afraid I'm not hungry," I said apologetically. "Sorry."

"Not to worry," he said, waving the apology away. "But tha' should eat somethin'. Tha'll need tha' strength."

"Strength?" I repeated. "For what?"

"For what?" he repeated incredulously. "For tha' quest, o' course."

"Quest?" I demanded. "What quest?"

He shook his head and turned away again. "Ah," he said. "I'll let me father tell you that."

So I curled up on the sleeping palette in the corner of the place and waited.


End file.
